


Vampires and Assassins

by Kiwi_the_Kylee



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23183044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi_the_Kylee/pseuds/Kiwi_the_Kylee
Summary: Kady Lason wasn’t brave, not that she was going to let anyone other than herself know that. Her actions far from reflect her internal dilemma, leading her on escapades in the middle of the night, far from her turmoil-fueled family life. Which is exactly how she ends up kidnapped and sold into a world that few know exist: a world of vampires. If the shock and fear isn’t enough, she ends up with a target on her back, just her luck. The past is easy to forget when facing threats most saw as myths, but, somehow, everything always ends up connected, doesn’t it?
Relationships: Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad/Reader, Desmond Miles/Reader, Edward Kenway/Reader, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Reader, Jacob Frye/Reader, Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Panicked breaths rushed through my nose, my mouth blocked by duct tape that had been slapped sometime in between my pathetically weak attempt to fight my captor and waking up from the right-hook he’d decked me. I could almost swear I still heard ringing in my ears.

My eyes darted around wildly, landing on this face and that, drawn mostly to the few female outliers of the crowd. While the crowd varied in age, most of them were men, doing nothing to ease my fear.

God knew men set me on edge, with good reason.

The women, I had been informed through quiet easedropping on my fellow captives, came mostly seeking presents for their sons or simple help. I could only assume the intentions of the men and I couldn’t assume any less than the abuse I had come to expect from them.

My feet were chained securely to the stage below, preventing me from darting from the stage or attacking my kidnappers—something I had attempted more than once.

My fear didn’t immobilize me, if there was anything I could be proud of. At least they didn’t know I was scared of them.

I was scared though. Terrified. The feeling buzzing in my veins as I forced a brave face. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing that fear, though; if I was going to die—or suffer whatever fate these human-shaped beasts saw fit—I was going to go through it as I always had.

And that meant digging divets into the insides of my cheeks to keep tears at bay and standing tall.

My hands were tied with rope, rubbing my wrists raw—I wouldn’t be surprised if they were bloody when the rope was removed. Of course, my vicious tugging had done nothing to help the skin, as the pain had done nothing to convince me to stop. It’d taken exhaustion for that.

As my eyes scanned the crowd, still hoping for some semblance of hope for escape, prices far greater than that of my parents’ yearly incomes put together—let alone the pathetic wage I received from stocking shelves in a local shop—were called out for the woman to my right and the prices only continued to rise as the seconds ticked by. Just how wealthy were these people?

I cringed as I heard the word _billion_ thrown into the air.

The woman acted as though this were just another day for her, her face blank—a stark contrast to the pure fury my eyes conveyed to the crowd. Her mouth was uncovered, unlike my own, clearly, I was the only new arrival to this party.

It was impossible not to notice that I was the outlier among these women. While they were treated with only chained feet, I was restrained as if I was a danger—let alone the differences in our body types. All the women were tall, taller than me at least, but that wasn’t a difficult feat; it was the obvious that stood out.

They might as well have been models, their faces lined with only a light layer of makeup and their bodies scantily covered—not that I envied the clothing, not with the prying eyes of men drilling into us—but it was obvious they had done their best to cover my features that weren’t on par with those of the women standing aside me.

Some of the women had the gall to smile and wave at the crowd, though even they carried a look of absolute disgust in their eyes.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

The auctioneer was a tall, dark skinned man with a deep voice and a grin that almost certainly would have fooled anyone into a sense of security—save those of my disposition, who refused to trust others on a good day. He was the first I had been introduced to, playing the part of a gentleman, until he saw that I wasn’t falling for his act.

He made no attempt to keep peace among the ravenous crowd, letting chaos reign until he heard a price that pleased him and sent other buyers into silence

“Sold, number 187!”

"Now, for our final item!” A deep growl rumbled free of my throat at the word _item_ , though it went unheard through the chatter and my blocked lips, it satisfied my need for protest. “Nineteen years old, turning twenty within the month. Unlike our more petite slaves, she will not be as easily broken.” I huffed indignantly, once again unnoticed, at his reference to my less-than-slim form, “While she is untrained,” This information sent most of the crowd mumbling and muttering among themselves, “this can be an advantage for anyone who wants a fighter. Not to mention, she’s a Category H. We had to sedate her to keep her this calm, she’s not one to take kindly to orders

That’s right. They _had_ sedated me. The panic had blocked the thought of the drugs from my mind, but at the mention, I couldn’t help but let out yet another indignant huff. I could still feel the sedative running through my veins, attempting to give me a false sense of relaxation, but they hadn’t dared to give me enough to knock me out and had, in turn, neglected to give me enough to do more than give me a very slight drowsy feeling.

A nap sounded good anyway, but with the sedative? It almost sounded like heaven.

"Who wants to start off the bidding?” At his words, I held my breath, trapped somewhere in between praying for a woman to bid and wanting them to all stay silent, to let me die.

It wasn’t the first time I had wanted to die, after all.

Silence overtook the crowd and, despite my previous thoughts, a shiver went down my spine. Was it that no one wanted a challenge or was it simply my age? All the other women were well over the age of twenty, yet, here I was, nothing more than a child compared to most of the people in the crowd and on the stage.

No, I realized. I had seen plenty of children before being brought out on this stage; a different grouping, but still present.

I could feel the pity-filled stares of the other women on the stage. My kidnappers and most of the women had made it painstakingly clear that if I wasn’t bought, I would be killed, like any unwanted and _untrained_ slaves.

A look of realization crossed the auctioneer’s face, followed by a devious grin. I knew, whatever he was about to say, I wasn’t going to like it. “I forgot the best detail! This girl is a virgin.”

I felt like a train had slammed straight into my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath.

The first bet went up, followed by another, then another. Before long there was an all-out brawl going and I had never felt such a simultaneous mixture of fear and anger in my life.

This couldn’t be happening. I needed to sit down. I needed to get my bearings. A bitter taste rose in my throat and fear and disgust ran like ice through my veins.  
Of course, it wasn’t much of a surprise, after all, there were a very limited number of things I could have been kidnapped for, but having my fears confirmed set aflame the burning hatred I had subdued from the moment I had awoken in this situation to keep myself alive. I almost fell forward as I lunged at the auctioneer, pulling ever harder on the rope binding my wrists.

The pain was excruciating, but anger completely enveloped any ounce of care I held. Fear was forgotten under the guise of my rage, flowing off of me in waves.  
My body ached with the desire to _end_ the man, but I couldn’t break free.

I couldn’t even rip into him to release my anger and, as such, the anger fermented in my chest, burning more than even the mangled skin of my wrists.

_I’m doomed._

As my anger melted into hopelessness, I fell to my knees, staring blankly at the crowd as they argued over me.

For once in my life, I was wanted, and I _hated_ it.

_Guess this is what they mean when they tell you to be careful what you wish for._

I would have given anything to go back to high school in the moment, even middle school. I would go back to the times in my life that made me want to die and, if I retained the knowledge of how much worse life could get, I could suck up the pain of emotional abuse and bullying. Whatever mistakes I had made that had lead me here couldn’t stem from that far back.

Maybe if I hadn’t spent years hating myself, I wouldn’t have ran off that night and I wouldn’t have ended up here.

_I just need a do-over._

As I stared into the crowd, fighting the panic attack building with each breath I took, I noticed a hooded man making his way to the stage.

I couldn’t see any trace of his face under the hood and its shadow, leaving me unable to read anything about him. As he made his way through the chaos of the crowd, it was as if no one noticed him. He seemed to be the only one in the crowd not fighting tooth and nail to purchase me so I kept my eyes trained on him, using his movements to anchor myself and remind myself to count.

 _Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Fifty_.

When he finally made it to the stage he motioned for the auctioneer to lean down. The dark-skinned man did so and the hooded man spoke into his ear. Had his mouth not been hidden from me, I could have, at least, read his lips, but their positions made it impossible.

When the auctioneer stood, there was a large smile on his face, stretching from ear to ear. “Sold to number 7!”

My head swung to the women beside me, fast enough to hurt, as my eyes desperately searched their faces for a sign that _somehow_ I was lucky. That, out of all the people, I hadn’t been purchased by someone pure evil. Each of them shook their heads, only slightly, their eyes bleeding pity.

My heart dropped.


	2. Chapter 2

_The scalding hot water raining down from the shower head received no response, its attempts to be a distraction doing little to nothing to draw my attention from the yelling on the other side of the door. They’d been at it all day. Medication could only do so much to soothe the sickness of anxiety—even with double the prescription—not that the burns on my arms were solving the problem either._

_As I stood and exited the shower, the red marks on my body began to sting, the cool air overpowering the numbness. I jumped, breath catching in my throat and chest clenching in the beginning stages of an attack, as the sound of glass shattering reached my ears._

_My clothes were on in an instant and the bathroom window opened. I didn’t hesitate._

_I never hesitated._

-

Unlike the other women, still standing in wait for their new _owners_ , I was instantly approached by the silent guards that had stood watch throughout the violent bidding war.

Comparatively to me, they were _giants_.

But I wasn’t going without a fight.

The moment my feet were released, I swiveled, jumping and slamming my forehead into one of the men’s noses. The dull pain in my skull did nothing to lessen my fury and I turned once again, charging the auctioneer with all the furiosity of a threatened beast.

The strain on my wrists when the rope was grabbed tore a hiss from my throat. The pain was just as quickly forgotten as I spun on my heel and aimed my head toward another face.

Before I made contact I was jerked away, my target taking hold of one of my arms while another kept me from attacking once again by taking hold of my other arm.

As they pulled me after the retreating form of the man who had _bought_ me, I began kicking and dragging my feet. Muffled shouts tore from my throat, but I was paid no mind.

Behind the tape, I muttered and whimpered as I fought to get loose, my attempts made all the stronger by the fear brought by the _gender_ of those restraining me. Though I knew my attempts were useless, I refused to go without a fight.

I hadn’t learned how to defend myself just to tuck tail the moment the need for defense arose.

I wasn’t getting thrown into a _man’s_ possession without hurting _someone_ and I didn’t care who.

The man in front of us walked leisurely, as if he had no cares in the world, and it brought my burning anger to the forefront of my mind, bypassing any and all remaining fear, where it peaked, pushing my blind panic into submission.

I jammed an elbow into each of the men behind me, satisfaction flooding my chest from just the bruising contact. To my shock, I successfully sent them falling back, bringing a proud grin to rest on my face.

Thank God my distrust of men made me paranoid enough to ensure that I could at _least_ make a quick getaway if ever needed.

I shot off toward the wooded area that enclosed the auction, thanking God again for the flats I’d been given in contrast of the heels most of the women wore. Still, I had only taken a few steps before one of the men tackled me, his aggressiveness making clear the rage he felt at being bested by one of his products.

I slammed against the ground with no way to break my fall, rocks slicing cuts into my face and legs. The man jerked me to my feet with no concern for the now bleeding cuts, not that I had expected any.

Had I been able to use my words, I would have commented on damaging the merchandise, even as my legs began to shake and pressure built behind my eyes.

I had been _bought_.

Who knew what this man was going to do to me, but I had my reasonable assumptions and they made me sick.

I found myself wishing he had left me to die.

I continued my earlier attempts to escape by thrashing, but as it became clear that my attempts weren’t working, I brought one leg forward before slamming it back into the crotch of the man holding my right arm. His already bruising grip on my arm tightened and resulted in a loud cry from my throat, the sound muffled, but audible even through the duct tape.

When I was shoved into an expensive looking limo-like vehicle, I was momentarily stunned into paralysis. Clearly, this man had money.

Of course, rich people weren’t rare enough to shock me on their, but we were still close to my small town—and all the other small towns around us—as far as I knew, and there were no rich people anywhere in our rural area, none with a _limo_. They could spend all the money they wanted on a kidnapped person, but a limo? No way would that, or a convention of “richies” go unnoticed. Now that I thought about it, I could almost swear I had seen some of the people in the crowd before.

Was I even in my town anymore?

I stayed frozen for only a few moments. There was no time to waste on pointless thoughts. I had to get out of this situation.

I pulled my knees to my chest. In my position, alone in the back of this vehicle, I had no reason to hold back when I began slamming my feet against the limo door as hard as I could. Grunting as the pressure shot pain up my calves, I grew more and more frantic as a dent appeared around the door’s handle.

Just as I was about to slam my feet against the window, hesitating only in fear of the glass getting in my eyes—a stupid reason in reflection—the limo jerked to a stop, sending me rolling to the floor.

I shook my head as I sat up, already feeling a growing bump where my head had hit, as I wondered what was going on. It was only a few seconds later that the door opened and a man climbed in beside me.

He was taller than the man who had bought me. Taller by at least three inches and broader, bigger than even the men who had dragged me to the vehicle, and he didn’t look like he was amused with my pathetic attempt at escape. I scooted as close as I could to the other side of the car, remaining on the floor as I trembled and tried not to let tears fall.

My legs burned and the cuts from the harsh tackle stung, but nothing hurt as much as the pain of fear clutching its icy claws into my heart.

I was shaking. Fear and the obvious burning out of my adrenaline both equal culprits.

I thought a nap sounded like heaven _before_.

The man didn’t say a word, he hardly even glanced at me, while I didn’t dare glance away, and he barely moved at all until the limo once again came to a stop.

I peeked out the window to see a large mansion, surrounded by thick trees. The trees would be an easy way to escape, however, getting past the tall fence, which was identifiable as electrified by the caution sign, would be the exact opposite.

An _electrified_ fence?

_How_ extra _can these guys get?_

The man who had sat in the back with me walked around the car and jerked open the door before he grabbed and lifted me almost effortlessly. I immediately began thrashing as best I could, banging my bound fists against his back—it was easy enough to slip my hands in front of me without much movement, and it was a welcome distraction—and knees against his chest, a well-aimed knee to the face caused him to drop me. Despite the pain—did my wrist just break?—and loss of breath from the fall with no chance to soften it, I immediately shot up and ran toward the trees. Exhaustion had nothing on my will to live.

Though death was a secondary fear at this point.

_God_ men were terrifying. 

My path was blocked by yet another man. Unlike the hooded men with fancy leather and metal - something I only begun to question upon his appearance - he was wearing a simple white hoodie and jeans and it took his clothing to remind me that I wasn’t in some alternate time or dimension. “Look, just relax.” I paused in my fleeing, but hadn’t the slightest intention of relaxing; I wouldn’t have paused at all if he hadn’t bee in front of me. “Just let us explain.”

I let a huff out of my nose, glaring at him with all the hate I could muster with my eyes—both for this situation and the fact that I’d been proven right. I _knew_ every bad experience in my life led to dying at the hands of some psychotic man—or men, as it was.

Let them _explain_? Let them explain why I was kidnapped, or why I was treated like an animal? Or maybe why they thought they had the right to _buy_ me, or anyone for that matter? I tried to convey all the anger I felt through my glare, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Not even a fraction of enough.

And the fear, that was surely peeking through.

My eyes were focused on him so intently and my blood was pounding so loud in my ears, I didn’t notice someone else coming up behind me.

A blade pressed itself against my throat as a rough voice spoke against my ear, “Keep running and we’ll have to put you down.” My panting stopped as I held my breath, lest that blade find its way under my skin.

_Explain_. Yeah, right.

I tensed, from the presence of the blade, yes, but farther from the way he had phrased that—even farther from how close he was. What gave him the right to talk to me like an animal? I’d never once regretted dropping out of the fighting classes I had been enrolled in before, convinced I knew enough to keep myself safe. I’d much rather spend my time sleeping or being lazy when I wasn’t working—save when I needed to get out—but I regretted it now. I regretted it more than I would have ever thought possible.

Tears finally escaped my eyes, running down and hitting the duct tape. The man behind me immediately pulled his blade away and lifted me, as my chest began to heave with my sobs, the day’s events finally ushering tears from my eyes.

He shushed me.

The action was so juxtaposed to the situation, so _foreign_ to what I knew, that it threw me for a loop, halting my tears for a moment as my brain struggled to regain some sense of reality.

Because this man, that had been holding a knife to my throat seconds before, did _not_ shush me with all the gentleness someone would award a crying child.

And, more urgently, I was _not_ wanting to relax. I did _not_ want to trust them.

I was so tired. I was so drained. I was so _terrified_.

I was sobbing again, but I’d grabbed his shirt, fists tight in the fabric.

“Relax,” he muttered under his breath as he attempted to get the duct tape off my mouth while continuing to restrain me. I wasn’t running now. I was _hesitating_. “I’m guessing he over-estimated how much of a fighter you are, hm?”

When he finally managed to get the tape off—muttering an almost silent apology as I let out a yelp—he shoved the crumpled piece in his pocket. “There we are, now you can yell all the profanities you want.”

I didn’t respond, sobs still coming from my throat as he lifted me, bridal style, with ease that I momentarily questioned  
Like I was a feather.

Even if I had answered, I wasn’t much for cursing, I just didn’t do it; it didn’t line up with my beliefs and far be it from me to start now when I needed that lifeline the most, not that I’d dare yell at the man who just held a knife to my throat at all.

Finally, I sobbed my first unhindered words against his chest, "Please don’t hurt me.“

"Wouldn’t dream of it, love.”


	3. Chapter 3

_He was staring._

_He was_ always _staring._

_Eyes planted on my form with a look that made me want to flee as I tried to keep myself hidden from attention against the bleachers._

_I didn’t run though. After all, where could I go in the school? The restroom could only protect me for so long and even it couldn’t defend against the barrage dealt upon me by my fellow girls._

_So I stayed still as he finally approached, a hunter stalking it’s prey._

_And I screamed prey. From my hidden spot in the corner to my trembling hands, I might as well have hung a sign around my neck._

_**Pay no mind to this girl. She’s hiding.** _

_He wasn’t a skilled predator, not when faced with prey as well evolved as me._

_His smile didn’t fool me. If it had, the hand that came with it would have swallowed all certainty and left me bounding away from his maw.  
_

_He touched me._

_He touched my_ face _. Who even does that?_

X

I had always loved predators.

They were the most majestic animals; lions, wolves, the difference was minimal in my eyes, because they were the hunters.

And I was prey.

So, like someone gazing at a movie star and vowing to model themselves in their likeness, as soon as I’d realized my lot as prey, I vowed to become a predator. I vowed to become strong and rise above the cowardice and weakness of my species. I didn’t realize then, predators were not soft. Predators did not shatter from the inside out in the face of angry voices. Predators did not run at the drop of a hat. Predators were not soft and I was and I always would be. I would always be prey.

At least I’d faced predators. I knew their gaits, their appearances, the ways they tried to draw you in with. I had learned them and all the dirty tricks they used to lure in my kind. They would give kindness upon kindness until they sunk their teeth into your flesh, but I had learned to avoid and slink my way by.

Then again, I had been led to believe I’d met my _ecosystems_ top predators.

And I was wrong.

“You will consider all of us your masters and you will follow all our orders without question.” I nodded quickly, jaw clenched and teeth gritting together. Clearly, the man in front of me wasn’t in any mood for anything other than compliance; I wasn’t in any position to be arguing back anyway. The kicker of the whole situation, however, was that I couldn’t look him in the face without feeling like a child who had done something wrong.

Or a pet that had been bad.

Submissiveness was how prey survived, but that didn’t mean I liked playing the role. It never got easier to tuck tail.

All earlier fire and rebellion had burned out, ashes of my hope remaining in their place.

There were _six_ of them.

Six men.

Six _predators_ who were tall and built and I was one short, chubby girl who knew how to elbow and kick and bite. I was prey, more so than I’d ever been before.

A rabbit. A rabbit was the closest comparison, from my trembling to the flighty nature that had led to my kidnapping and to _this_.

“Altair, you’re scaring her,” said man huffed under his breath, but ceased in his lecture and scowling, “ _Bella_ , don’t mind him. I’m Ezio Auditore.” I kept my head down, any and all responses dying on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to speak my mind, but, more so, I wanted to survive.

He pushed on despite my obvious unease, “What’s your name, _Cara_?”

I remained silent for a moment longer, the bitter taste in my mouth growing stronger with each unwelcome pet name. Really though, did I want to earn pain over something as simple as my name? Besides, I would greatly prefer my name to all the insults bestowed on me in the time before the auction.

If someone addressed me as _slave_ one more time, I was almost certainly going to get myself killed by trying to kill them.

“Kady Lason.”

Silence followed my answer, clearly none of them had expected me to respond.  
Finally, after what felt like minutes sitting in deafening silence, but really could only have been seconds, Ezio held his hand out. I hesitated, not believing for a moment that the civility of this situation was honest, but I did shake his hand.

An act. This was an _act_ and I had been an actress my whole life, playing the role required in each and every situation tossed in my direction. Walking on eggshells all your life and keeping it hidden needed a fair amount of knowledge in the way of performance.

Ezio’s move led to the others introducing themselves. I had expected some of their names to sound familiar, as I was certain at this point that I had recognized some of the people in the crowd, but none of their names rang a bell.

Not that I was well-versed in the names of the wealthy. I had my own problems without watching them flunt their money in the faces of those who had to _work_ for life.

Maybe that was why these people were so entitled as to believe they could purchase other humans, because they hadn’t needed to _earn_ the right to survive or fight to deserve any level of comfort.

Entitlement wasn’t evil. And I was grasping at straws, trying to mold the ashes of hope quickly vanishing inside me into something to cling to.

The situation was far from becoming any less awkward than it had been when Jacob had carried my sobbing form through the front door. If anything, the situation was becoming more awkward. Or, maybe, it was tension, not awkwardness at all. Could a situation this awful even be described as awkward? Either way, I couldn’t help clenching and unclenching my fists at my sides, a nervous habit I hoped they didn’t misinterpret as anything other than an attempt to calm my nerves.

If I could fight, I would. I had no uncertainty about that. I’d already made the attempt, as weak as it had been.

Yes, I was prey, but prey didn’t lay down and die, and neither would I.

For the time being, as prey does, I played complacent, biding my time. I couldn’t fight them all. I couldn’t even fight _one_.

“Who’s going to tell her?” I had no idea what Desmond was referring to, so his question immediately sent my mind into a panic, trying to give myself any idea of what they would need to tell me.

It was _obvious_ why I was here wasn’t it?

Still, part of me chanted a mantra of pleas within my head. _Housework. Housework. Housework._

God, if they didn’t _hurt_ me, I wouldn’t mind staying in this enormous house. I’d been trying to get away anyway, right?

I was smarter than that, though. No one would throw that much money away for a maid. Men were all the same, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, and these men had _bought_ me.

With a sigh, Edward spoke, “I’ll handle it.” He muttered something I could quite hear as he took the few steps from where he was standing to where I was. He crouched down in front of me and sent glances to Jacob and Desmond who were the closest to my sides.

I _wasn’t_ blind.

He spoke gently, like I was a scared animal—which I was, a scared, trembling meal for the wolves that surrounded me. Again, as always, in my efforts to disguise what I was, I’d hung a neon sign from my neck: **Prey**.

“This is going to scare you and, considering you weren’t trained, you have every right. But we aren’t going to hurt you.” Before I had a chance to question or even consider what he had said, his eyes flashed red and he opened his mouth to reveal sharp fangs.

What was in that sedative?

Because, I was _definitely_ having hallucinations.

I pushed myself up with a gasp, fully intending to make a run for the door that was only a few feet away as I realized, I was _not_ hallucinating. They were _vampires_.

When I’d referred to myself as a meal, I had _never_ expected it to be literal.

Before I could get my bearings to charge the door, Jacob and Desmond had grabbed my arms and pulled me back onto the couch we were on. “No! Let me go!”

Fire was back and, with it, thrashing and yells, but not with any semblance of bravery, only with terror.

I was sure I dug my nails into Jacob’s arm, more out of reflex than genuine intention, but he didn’t sound at all upset when next he spoke. “Calm down, Love.” Using the hand that wasn’t gripping my wrist, he turned my head to the side and met my eyes, his own flashing red for a moment before my body fell limp. A false sense of security clouded my mind and, though I knew it wasn’t real, I couldn’t fight against it. “That’s a good girl,” he purred, rubbing his thumb against my cheek.

And, _God help me_ , every one of my senses had echoed that purr.

“We went to the auction intending to buy a _trained_ blood slave.” While Edward paused, and sent a glare in Ezio’s direction, I could feel fear bypassing the false peace. What could blood slave possibly mean other than what had immediately popped into my mind?

I had to wonder which was worse, my previous soul crushing fear or being _dinner_?

“Ezio didn’t want you to be bought just to be tortured and killed - like most blood slaves and almost all untrained slaves are—so he bought you.” Altair’s voice was cold, but his eyes seemed to hold a bit of sympathy, not that such offered me much, if any, comfort.

Pity was something I knew, though. Pity was something normal, outside this realm of impossibility and madness I had somehow entered.

I was insane.

That was what was happening.

Or I was in a coma.

_Please let this be a coma._

Connor, who had been nearly silent up to this point, interjected bluntly, “We need to brand her.”

My body was still limp and the false peace still mostly intact, but it was hardly a moment after the word _brand_ that I was thrashing once again, kicking and trying to pull my arms from the grips of the men beside me. “You can’t! Don’t!”

I wasn’t mindlessly swinging now.

Jacob and Desmond’s grips immediately tightened to a point that was borderline painful, but I landed enough kicks in kind, “Thanks, Connor!” Desmond snapped, trying to avoid my nails, that were now clearly being used as intentional weapons.

I was _literally_ dinner.

_That’s it, I’m going vegan._

At least animals didn’t realize what was happening. They didn’t have to suffer the blind panic of _knowing_ they were going to die.

Why, if I was a glorified blood smoothie, did they need to brand me anyway? It seemed like overkill. Like adding insult to _**death**_.

“He is right; we should get it over with.” Edward had quickly gotten out of the way when I’d started kicking and was standing next to Altair. “I’ll go get it ready.” He was gone in a flash, through the panic in my brain, I acknowledged that it was most likely because he wanted out of the situation.

 _Yeah, you and me both, pal_.

“No!” I shrieked once more, somehow getting loose from Jacob and Desmond to my own surprise, stumbling over myself as I launched off of the couch. I immediately darted, slamming into the door as I grabbed the handle and found it locked, my mind not working quickly enough to reach for the lock. Connor was standing over me a second later, my arms in his hands, tightly, but not painfully. “Please don’t! I don’t wanna die!”

Clearly, that gave him pause, his brow furrowing in what seemed to be confusion before realization took it’s place.

It was then Ezio stepped in again, “ _Cara_ , we will explain more later, but we are not going to kill you.”

When I spoke, through the panic and tears, my voice was firm and my tone surprised even me, “My name is _Kady_.”

What right did a monster have to call me anything but?

Surprise showed on his face and one of the others chuckled, almost silent as he muttered, “Category H, alright.”

Any ounce of bravery vanished as it had come. Death or not, I wasn’t anymore thrilled with the idea of branding. “Please, _please_ don’t brand me!”

“If it was our choice we wouldn’t, but it is law. If anyone happens to notice you without a brand it could cause trouble for all of us.”

“I won’t run! I swear! Please!” I didn’t expect them to believe that, even I didn’t believe it, but I’d say anything to get out of this. I’d _do_ anything to get out of this entire situation. And if I didn’t run, why would anyone notice I wasn’t marked like livestock?

Unless they _branded_ me somewhere visible.

The thought alone was enough to spark an aggressive kick, hitting Connor in the shin. He didn’t even flinch and, through the pain in my foot, I cursed the fact that they’d taken my boots and replaced them with the pathetic flats I was wearing.

“It’s ready.” Edward’s voice came from the stairway he had disappeared up. Connor seemed relieved, not that I could blame him. He could try to reason with me as much as he wanted, but he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere.  
Because there was no reasonable explanation for branding another person, monsters or not.

I was against branding _animals_ , what did _I_ do to deserve this? Hadn’t I dealt with enough?

I shrieked again as Connor picked me up. I brought my hand back, intending to scratch him—not that it would help me in the long run—but his eyes flashed red, much in the way Jacob’s had, and I froze. It must have been comical the way my hand froze halfway through the action of attacking, as every nerve ending in my body went numb.

I did _not_ like that.

The effects lasted only a couple of seconds, but it was long enough for him to pin my arms to my sides and wrap an arm around my legs, preventing any attack I could have attempted.

I continued to thrash, but tears quickly covered my face as I found I could do nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

_I never understood romanticizing fire. All it offered was destruction and pain and I had plenty enough of those without fire perforating my life._

_In a way, I’d come to see fire and men as one in the same. Both offered warmth and comfort until the moment you stepped too close, then you were burned._

_Sometimes the flames exploded before you could even get close._

_Like the one who had threatened himself if I didn’t accept him._

_Like the ones who had cornered me and offered nothing but heckling._

_Like the one who’d grabbed me off the side of the road…_

×

I’d always been a fan of categorization and, when it came to my fears, I kept a list pinned to the front of my mind. The list had no shortage of ridiculous and pointless fears sprinkled throughout, but the top three were avoided like the plague to the best of my ability.

Men, fire, burns.

The fear for fires and burns came hand in hand, even though I’d never experienced the trauma of a large scale fire or horrific burn. My fear for burns was simply that. The pain caused by burns even slight raised a sickness in my stomach and made me dizzy and shaky, and that was accidental short-lived burns.

What they planned to do was in no way accidental and would—undoubtedly— leave a far more questionable scar than any and all other burns I had suffered.

Blood smoothie and self aware cattle: that was what I had been reduced to in the matter of hours and, despite the feeling of panic becoming a permanent fixture in my mind and body, anger was peaking once again.

Connor spent only seconds trying to pry me off of him, but I left my own marks in that time. If I couldn’t dig my nails into all of them, by all means I’d give him the whole of my rage and fear.

I sunk my teeth deep into his arm before he finally pushed me onto a wooden table.

I was panting. My eyes darting around the room and the moment one of them moved, I was prepared to run.

But there were six of them.

I was hyperventilating, struggling to catch my breath and failing. The harder it became for me to breathe, the more panic began to envelope me.

Finally, Jacob tilted my head back and met my eyes, before his eyes flashed he placed a hand on my shoulder, preventing me from falling backwards when I went limp.

I twitched when the bottom of my shirt was lifted, my nails digging into the surface below me as I prepared to turn, but Connor quickly took Jacob’s place, his own eyes doing nothing to dull the fear, but keeping me in place as the remains of Jacob’s ability continued to still the fear if only slightly.

One of them ran their fingers over the area, numbness immediately following.

To be fair, they _could_ have told me that was something they could do.

For all my thrashing and dramatics, I had to admit that the false peace did make the pain—what was left after the numbness—from the burn less extreme. I jumped more from the cold chill of the ice pack one of them pressed against my back after it was done.

Jacob was rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. Even though I was still aware that the calmness I felt was false, I couldn’t say I didn’t appreciate the gesture.

Even though I shouldn’t. I knew that.

_Its an act. Its an act. Its an act. Don’t be_ _**stupid**_.

“What order are we going in?” My head snapped in Edward’s direction—though snapped was probably an exaggeration in my exhausted and _manipulated_ state.

“I’m first!” Jacob exclaimed childishly, tone and volume both earning a jump from me.

“Since we’re sharing you, you’ll stay with each of us for a week. On the first night, whichever one of us you are with will drink from you, the rest of the week you’re free from any other responsibilities.” Matter-of-fact. Altair had a blunt way of speaking, but, at least, that seemed to make him more truthful.

“Have to keep your strength up.” Edward’s words gained a huff, the most I could muster in response.

I was sure I made a face. The calm and numbness were both slowly wearing off, as they did, the brand began to burn more and the idea of being food for them was growing less and less desirable - enough to spark another panic.

_Am I in a coma?_

I jumped as Ezio clasped a hand on my shoulder. “You shouldn’t worry about it, _Bella_. The pain only lasts for a moment.”

That didn’t change anything.

“ _Kady_.”

And whatever mark they’d put on my body didn’t change the fact that I’d never give them the satisfaction of having me act the part of property.

×

I was far from thrilled to meet their other slaves, but, knowing they weren’t human, I was glad to know that there were other humans in the mansion. Not to mention other women being present at least made me feel less surrounded.

The group was split evenly between male and female. The men all seemed either completely uninterested in me or more interested than I appreciated.

I didn’t need any more men beyond the six that now _owned_ me giving me heart attacks, but I wasn’t going to hide behind one of _them_ as if they were any source of comfort.

I’d deal with them if any problem arose.

A few of the women offered me smiles, which I couldn’t help but return. The smiles calmed me slightly, at least they didn’t give me the unnerving look the women at the auction had.

Those at the auction had looked at me like I was _competition_. That wasn’t something I was used to, considering I’d always been the ugly girl, not that it bothered me much anymore.

At least, it hadn’t in the months leading up to my kidnapping, commitment frightened me enough, let alone commitment to a man. I was more than happy to avoid the attention poured upon other women.

A group of three girls that appeared to be around my age offered me nothing more than cold glares. I attempted to ignore them as my gaze wandered over the rest of the group, but when my eyes returned to them to find them still glaring daggers at me, I returned the look.

_High school all over again._

“There _won’t_ be any fighting.” Altair’s voice didn’t betray his words as anything more or less than what they were. That wasn’t a suggestion or a command, that was a _threat_. His gaze was on the group of three at first, but soon switched to me.

As soon as his eyes moved to me, my head jerked in the opposite direction.

“That includes you.” I nodded quickly.

Now I _wanted_ to start a fight.

The line between fearing men and doing everything in my power to go against what they told me to do blurred sometimes.

Especially when I really wanted to plant my fist in someone’s face.

“We need to go.”

Confusion took the place of my dangerous thoughts as they all walked to the door. Ezio called over his shoulder for one of the other girls—Kelly—to keep an eye on me.

With that, they were gone.

As soon as they were out of the door, the group began to dissipate, the only exception being who I assumed was Kelly, the group of three, and a man who looked around my age.

Kelly looked to be in her mid-twenties and, despite the situation, she grinned at me genuinely. She held out her hand and I took it, unable to resist returning her smile with a nervous one of my own. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry for the circumstances.” Her smile fell slightly, but I wouldn’t have noticed had I not learned to pick up on subtle changes such as it.

I nodded in agreement, though my attention had diverted itself to the group who, instead of glaring, were now whispering and pointing to each other. Considering all I had heard, I could make a fair assumption that the girls had been trained, I guess snootiness extends to all walks of life.

What was with these _trained_ people? To be fair, they might not have been trained, but they bled the same aura of the auction girls.

“What’s their problem?” I questioned, jutting my chin in the girls’ direction.

Kelly made a sound between a snicker and a scoff, “They’re jealous.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Jealous? That was something.

Come to think of it, the men were attractive, but I must have overlooked that in favor of the concern of losing my freedom, and—of course—the small matter that I was _literally_ a food source for them.

_Blood smoothie. Blood smoothie._

Eventually that thought was going to slip into the open if I didn’t cut it off.

I had far more important things to worry about than their looks—they were attractive though, I wouldn’t lie.

“Just to be on the safe side—not that I think you can’t protect yourself—” she was quick to assure me of such, flashing a nervous grin.

Category H.

What in the world was a category H? And why, if that was the cause, did it make her so nervous?

“- _but_ ,” her emphasis on the word regained my attention, tearing it away from the momentary tangent, "you should probably avoid them.“ Kelly glanced to the group and then back to me. "They were raised in this life and are used to the punishments, you on the other hand, aren’t.”

I felt a shiver go down my spine, but refused to show any indication of it, not when one of them could be looking. “They’ll… _punish_ me even if they start the fight?” That word put a bad taste in my mouth. This entire situation made me hyper aware of any word or statement that could be used for an animal and I _didn’t_ like it.

“They don’t appreciate breaking up fights, and…” She glanced to the side and hesitated, I could tell she didn’t think she should say what she was about to say, “Vampires in general are… possessive. They don’t like anything they feel entitled to being… marked on by anyone other than them.” She glanced back at me, clearly trying to judge my reaction, but her eyes betrayed the fact that _something_ in that statement was a lie, but I could only guess at what.

Making the vampires that towered over my frame and could easily rip me apart—could they do that? Did I even want to find out?—angry wasn’t the best idea, but a small part of me didn’t care, at least, not when they weren’t there. Some small part of my mind, that I was trying my hardest to ignore, kept reminding me that they had to have had a blood slave before me and what could have happened to make them need a new one other than the obvious?

I was going to die.

And, that being the case, why should I _not_ go out by being the most insufferable version of myself I could?

I could start a fight.

I could run out that door.

“What are you thinking?” Kelly’s voice was suspicious, maybe even a little nervous.

After being brought back from my thoughts, I was questioning them myself.

_Hope for the best. Benefit of the doubt and whatnot._

This day had been too much. I needed to get some sleep before I really did snap and toss my life away.

_What do you really have to live for anyway?_

I gave my head a definitive shake to push away the thought before tossing a final glare of my own in the direction of the girls, “Is there somewhere I can take a nap?”

Kelly seemed relieved to be getting me away from the potential trouble that the group posed, her tense shoulders falling and clenched hands relenting. “You can use my bed, come on.” She gently nudged me toward the steps, chatting to me about random things as she led me up them.


End file.
